


Trouble clef

by vanishing_apples



Series: Primal Conservatoire AU [1]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Music school AU, Romantic Fluff, We’re in for one cheesy ride lads run while you still can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-10-19 11:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17600093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishing_apples/pseuds/vanishing_apples
Summary: Alexiel has heard of love being found in the oddest of places, she just never expects among stage props to be one of them.





	1. Chapter 1

“...iel. You’ll stretch the drumhead, Alexiel!!” 

Alexiel stirs awake with a grunt, squirming a little to avoid Medusa’s clarinet digging into her side.

“...Ugh. I’m sorry. Are we already done?” 

Her nose stings when freed from the prolonged frontal faceplant. Guilt gradually solidifies with her vision, and Alexiel fervently hopes the poor timpani can somehow perceive her unspoken apology.

“Yeah, everyone else is gone. You pulled another all-nighter to help the props master, huh?” - Medusa grumpily grabs herself a nearby vacant chair and plops down next to the groggy Alexiel. - “Sure, percussions don’t have a whole lot to do for our next performance but we still need you awake for the last five bars at least! Did he make you start painting flowers for the opera department already?”

“Finished. All five hundred of them.” - Alexiel’s laughter is hoarse with residual drowsiness. 

Medusa’s jaw drops open, scandalised.

“Seriously!? That production doesn’t even start rehearsing in three months! Does Uriel just forget his daughter is a student first and his personal, unpaid assistant second!?”

“A lot more than painted flowers goes into a production, Medusa.” 

Halfway through a yawn, Alexiel has already stood up and begun folding Medusa’s scores for her. Her hands are slapped away from the smaller girl’s clarinet just short of an attempt to put it back in its case. 

“Don’t baby me.” - Medusa finishes the deed herself, lips curled in a pout. - “And learn to say ‘no’ sometimes, will you?”

“I help out not by lack of will, Medusa, but from a genuine want to be helpful. I appreciate your concern, though, and will surely take the advice into acco-”

“Alexieeeeel! There are these ballet kids here asking for… uh… some horse leg pants they requested from you!?” 

Without even recognising the classmate who just called for her from the hall, Alexiel yells back in response.

“I’ll have them delivered shortly!!”

Medusa rolls her eyes in vexation. Alexiel can do no better to appease her than responding with nervous laughter.

“Come, now. I can’t possibly un-accept a favour I already agreed to doing.”

“Fine.” - Medusa huffs. - “Just don’t let me catch you passed out on another instrument one of these days.”

\---

Alexiel’s sleep-clouded mind clearly inhibits her spatial, or overall awareness, for she barely questions why the door to the storage room at the back of concert hall is already ajar upon her arrival.

Some costumes lay in heaps and strewn across the carpeted floor, evidence of a frantic costume change frenzy not long ago. The shelves are still orderly with their neat lines of labeled boxes, at least, and large props remain in their proper places. Alexiel’s sighs with relief, the mere presence of some organisation in this place already a soothing balm on her frayed nerves. Hopefully, those pants haven’t been mixed up with the mess on the ground. 

Acute focus on her search may have inflicted tunnel vision upon Alexiel, rendering her practically blind to most of her surrounding, or she just isn’t wakeful enough to notice the new “prop” piece sitting a mere pace away from where she kneels rummaging through a crate. Either way, Alexiel’s heart leaps to her throat when what her subconscious assumes is a particularly large doll speaks.

“Good day to you, fellow applicant! Oh, am I grateful to finally be with company!”

“Jesus Chr-!! Wha- ouch!” 

Not only has shock thrown her backwards, her knee-jerk also manages to knock some heavy tape rolls off the nearest shelf and send them tumbling down her own head. 

“Oh dear… I am terribly sorry for startling you. Here, allow me.” 

One hand still busy rubbing at the fresh bump on her head, Alexiel reaches out her other to take the offered help.

Soft. Such an incredibly delicate hand. She has never felt hands this supple in her life, though in all fairness Alexiel does not know many. Surely, this soft flesh pressing its welcoming warmth into her own palm can only be human. 

“Thank you.” 

Looking up, the full visage of the hand’s owner promptly casts doubt on her previous conclusion. Pale blonde hair frames gentle sapphire eyes deeply set in a youthful, symmetrical face, rosy cheeks and a modest mouth lined by just the perfect amount of gloss - gentle but sophisticated features, almost perfect enough to seem artificial in both their design and arrangement. 

Alexiel wonders if the prospect of a talking doll is more uncanny than the existence of this aesthetically-pleasing a human being.

“No, the pleasure’s all mine.” - The girl smiles serenely. - “Again, I deeply apologise for surprising you. Though I must say, you have quite the lovely, rich voice! Are you perhaps a contralto? You would be quite the rare gem, then. Would it be impertinent of me to inquire about your repertoire for today?”

“Wait, wait, hold on. Repertoire?” - Alexiel cuts in. - “Might you be under the impression this is the waiting location for some audition?”

The girl blinks one, then twice. Her smile soon wilts and gives way to confusion. 

“Why yes. I am here for my final screening as a prospective student.” - She sounds mildly panicked. - “Is this place… not it?”

A storage room is definitely not it. Alexiel sees little point in adding fuel to the girl’s anxiety, however. If anything, providing immediate assistance is much more productive.

“May I see your call slip?”

Squinting at the slip of paper gingerly held out to her, Alexiel lets out a small sigh.

“Alright, you got the correct room number but this is the wrong building. You need to be at the recital hall, which is fortunately not a long way from here. Just turn right when you exit the foyer of this building and follow the path all the way to the end. The recital hall is quite the imposing structure and stands next to a large announcement board, so you shouldn’t miss it.”

Colour returns to the girl’s face as she drinks in the instructions. She doesn’t mean to stare, but Alexiel can’t help but find the intense concentration wrinkling her delicate eyebrows cute. The expression is soon replaced by the full force of her returned smile, however.

“Oh, thank you, from the bottom of my heart! You just saved me from quite the disastrous consequence for my error. Unfortunately, I must make haste.”

“Would you like me to walk you there?” 

Cute as she is, Alexiel still doesn’t quite trust the judgment of someone who just walked into a supposed waiting room and sat in it without questioning why they were surrounded by half-naked mannequins and impractical furniture.

“You are so very kind, but I must decline. Your instructions are superb, and I am aware that you still have business here to tend to.” - Slinging her bag strap over her shoulder, the girl gives Alexiel a deep bow then hurriedly turns to leave. - “I hope we‘ll meet again!”

“Uh, okay. Good…! Luck...”

The girl has already bolted out halfway through Alexiel’s reply, but not without leaving behind an unwitting souvenir. Alexiel picks up the object that has fallen off the side of her bag - a plastic keychain with the appearance of some fantastic, gnarly reptile - clearly isn’t something she would expect to be among such a person’s possessions. It looks strangely familiar, like one of the capsule toys Alexiel received from her father as a child.

But just as she is scrutinising the keychain, the girl’s abrupt return gives her the second near heart attack for the day.

“I forgot to ask! May I know your name for a future opportunity to express my gratitude?”

“I… It’s Alexiel-”

“Noted. Have a good day!”

Before Alexiel could say her last name, the girl has rushed back out into the halls, leaving dumbfounded and alone in the storage room. The little reptile lays clenched in her palm, unreturned.

\---

She has good reason for this. Giving someone’s possession back to them is good enough a reason to go looking for them. It’s probably not good enough to warrant running at the speed she did, but Alexiel is too dazed from lack of sleep to rationalise every single one of her impulses. She doesn’t even know if the mysterious girl’s screening has just begun or is already over. Her feet just move on autopilot, guided by the vague memory of a string of numbers she saw on a call slip.

It turns out she doesn’t even need to search out the room. Minutes after her departure from the dance department, Alexiel finds herself unceremoniously slouched below a window of the recital hall. There is no justification for this. She simply ducked the moment she spotted her search subject onstage. To her mild horror (and an inexplicable elight), every word said in the hall is audible where she is, owing to the window being slightly opened.

“Mozart is quite the daring choice for an entrance screening, don’t you think? Not that we have any doubts pertaining to your ability, especially with your background, that is.” - Says someone presumably from the evaluation panel below stage.

“Yes. While I’m aware of the technical demand, this piece is very close to my heart and is something I have faith in myself to adequately deliver.” 

Her voice is airy light, soothing just as Alexiel remembers. It’s hard to imagine such a gentle sound projecting with the typical decibel range she has heard from some enrolling students of the vocal department. But something in Alexiel’s guts tells her she will not be disappointed.

“Whenever you’re ready, Miss Viscontie.”

“Yes, sir.”

Viscontie… The sound rattles at the back of her mind. It sounds like the name of something she ought to be familiar with but is unable to exactly pinpoint. 

As Alexiel sits distracted by her own wandering thoughts, it begins.

“ _Un moto di gioia, mi sento nel petto…_ ”

The sound filling the recital hall and Alexiel’s chest with its dulcet warmth is nothing short of angelic. Even while experiencing it herself, she struggles to fathom how that volume could come from lungs housed in such a small body. 

The joyful melody floods the entire structure, comes spilling out of the window’s ajar glass panes and into Alexiel’s hungry ears. Claiming this aria to be close to her heart was apparently no lip service, not with the amount of heart the girl is pouring into her voice. Each morsel of hope, of an optimistic longing and desire to be loved inherent in every stanza is being sung to life with utmost sincerity. Bewitching in its innocence, infectious in its passion, the voice slowly pulls Alexiel under, ensnaring her even as its mistress remains oblivious to the potency of her own charm. 

Poor Alexiel no longer bothers with remaining hidden as the last lines draw to a close. All the heat having pooled at her face and neck, carried by blood from a rapidly pounding heart, her bizarrely cold hands barely feel each other when she begins smacking them together like a madwoman in a self-incriminating standing ovation. Royal blue eyes immediately turn to her, widen slightly with surprise, then narrow in delighted laughter before disappearing under the girl’s deep bow.

Even her laughter is pretty. A different, just as beauteous sort of music to Alexiel’s ears, she would even boldly claim, and she hates herself a little for it. Did the evaluation panel members not interrupt her, Alexiel would be content just standing there and clapping till the end of time if it meant she could listen to those melodious giggles forever.

Unfortunately, her partly insomnia-induced trance must come to a stop and only then does Alexiel realise the full social gravity of what she has been doing. Of course, the most sensible thing to do then is to run from the situation like a wanted fugitive, not achieve what she set out to do by coming here, and not even learning the name of the person on whom she is now afflicted with a massive, debilitating crush.


	2. Chapter 2

“So you really just upped and left!? That’s wild.” - Grimnir rocks back and forth on the two front legs of his chair, eyes wide with fascination.

“...Yeah. At least I learned that she’s _something_ Viscontie.” - Alexiel bites her lower lip. - “...Can’t be that hard to find someone with just their last name, right?”

They burst out laughing in concert, sounding about twice as unconvinced as they are individually. Alexiel feels about ready to snap the drumsticks in her hands.

“Hold on, Viscontie, though.” - Gripped by epiphany, Grimnir abruptly stops laughing. - “And you said she sang opera?”

“Yes, with the most beautiful voice.” - Alexiel’s shoulders droop with pensive woe.

It’s not at all like her to display such… open passion. Grimnir doesn’t quite understand the mechanics of this curious affliction which seems to plague her, but he’s eager to help. 

“Huh… I’m no acquaintance of any opera-singing Visconties myself, or any Visconties for that matter, so I wouldn’ t know if the name is common. But what are the chances of this girl being related to _the_ Gabriel Viscontie, you know?”

So that’s why the name sounded familiar to Alexiel. It slipped her mind at the time as she was occupied with being awestruck, but thank heavens for Grimnir’s consistent attentiveness to music history lectures.

“Don’t be silly. What makes you think a legendary prima donna would not have a young, musically-inclined relative of hers homeschooled instead of going to some obscure conservatory like ours?”

The scandalised gasp next to her is loud enough that Alexiel needs not even turn her head to tell Grimnir’s current expression.

“Don’t say that! This is where musical genius burgeons in full glory and dreams take flight, Alexiel!! Have you any idea how many of our alumni now play for renowned orchestras of the highest prestige!? How many historically momentous symphonies have been written in the ancient winding passages of our hallways!? Countless, I tell you! From the seventeenth century…”

Alexiel lightly whacks Grimnir out of his tangent with some rolled up scores before he gets too heated. 

“Ow!”

“Alright, alright I’m sorry for the ignorant remark.” - Sighing, she absentmindedly pulls the reptile keychain out of her pocket and holds it to eye level for better scrutiny. - “Still don’t think a Viscontie would own something like this, though.”

Grimnir’s chair rattles. Within seconds, zealous mismatched eyes are directly opposite of hers.

“Oh. my. god. They haven’t made any more of these limited Kodilla keychains since 1986!! This is hers??”

“Y...Yeah. She dropped it in the grand concert hall’s stora-”

“I wanna meet her!!” - Grimnir is practically bursting at the seams with excitement, ecstatic by the prospect of having a like-minded playmate.

“Wait… what? Why all of a sudden?” - A sudden wave of possessiveness pulls Alexiel to her feet.

“Because! It’s NINETEEN EIGHTY-SIX Kodilla, Alexiel!! Wait…”

Alexiel finds the sudden pause in Grimnir’s display of explosive energy worrying. A justified gut reaction, she soon learns, as it quickly returns, accompanied by the proposal of a bad idea.

“Do you think… Hey, how does one volunteer to be a piano accompanist for the vocals department?? I’m game!”

“Hold your horses! You don’t even know if she’s admitted-” 

“One plays as an accompanist by being able to read scores first and foremost, I’d assume.”

Both turn to the direction of the familiar, approaching voice. Alexiel has never felt so grateful to be interrupted by her more rational bandmate. 

“Welcome back, Sandalphon.”

Sandalphon greets them with a small nod before pushing the plastic cup of fruit tea into her waiting hands. 

“Yeah, welcome back!” - Grimnir’s face breaks into a huge grin as he reaches for the other cup Sandalphon is holding. - “Also for the record, I _can_ sight-read now, I’ve been brushing up on theory…huh?”

The cup is snatched away from his eager fingers before they get to encircle it. Holding it above his head, Sandalphon raises one corner of his lips in a lopsided smirk.

“You have?”

“I have!” - Grimnir huffs, reaching for his drink to no avail.

“Oh yeah? What’s a perfect fifth up from B flat?”

Alexiel’s snort almost sprays tea through her nose.

“Eh…? That’s not fair! Alexiel didn’t have to pass an oral exam to get her drink!”

“Answer, or this goes in the trash.”

Grimnir looks close to crying.

“...But I paid for it.”

“Perfect fifth up from B flat.” 

Alexiel feels bad for the look of sheer horror on Grimnir as he watches the colourful, flavoured ice floating atop his soda slowly melt into oblivion. He turns to her with fattening tears, desperation palpable from where she stands. But Sandalphon’s glare shuts her up before she can provide any verbal assistance.

“Well?”

“Uhm! Just… give me a minute! I’ll...”

Poor Grimnir begins to manually count up the number of required semitones on his fingertips, miscounting and having to start over several times. Sandalphon’s chagrin be damned, Alexiel has watched this sorry display for long enough and neither does she have the heart to hear Grimnir sob through the rest of their practice session. Grabbing Sandalphon’s guitar from its stand, she plucks a clear B flat. 

Sandalphon kneads his forehead as Grimnir’s eyes light up with hope.

“I got it! This one!” 

Grimnir strikes the corresponding F on his keyboard with excessive force. The contrast between his triumphant grin and the dirty look Sandalphon throws Alexiel’s way is borderline comical. 

“You’re not helping him, you know that right?”

“The perfect pitch is his, so technically he still achieved the task by his own capacity.” - She shrugs.

“You bet I did! Now gimme!” 

Sandalphon grunts with displeasure before shoving the soda cup at Grimnir, who receives it with unfettered glee. 

“Disgraceful. And you call yourself a conservatore student.” - Sandalphon mumbles.

“Hey.” - Alexiel shoots the guitarist a stony glare midway through a sip of her tea. 

Sandalphon clicks his tongue, then redirects his focus to tuning his instrument.

For some moments, only Sandalphon’s plucking fill the space among them. Grimnir is busy slurping on soda and occasionally complaining of brain freeze, seeming to have forgotten about his newfound goal of infiltrating the vocals department. The unproductive tranquility drags on until Sandalphon raises his voice.

“I’ll tell you this, Alexiel: The Viscontie girl is indeed related to Gabriel Viscontie. She’s already admitted, too, as if this couldn’t get any more laughably cliched.”

“...You’re serious!?” - Alexiel leaps out of her chair and almost crashes into a snare drum.

“Wait, how do you know about Gabriel Viscontie, Sandalphon? I thought you hated anything to do with classical.” - Grimnir’s eyes narrow. - “And how did you know she got admitted? You don’t even go to our school.”

“What is my business to you?” - Sandalphon clicks his tongue again in the usual peevish fashion. - “And I still despise the pretentious folly that you rich snobs engage in, just to make things clear, before you run wild with any assumptions.”

“Fair.” - Alexiel cuts in before Grimnir could open his mouth and tension between the two young men escalates into full-blown quarrel. - “We won’t question your sources, but I still see no good reason to-”

“Fact check for yourself, then. She should begin a fixed schedule of practicing in the concert hall in the afternoon of Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, like the other freshmeat.” 

Alexiel’s jaw drops open in disbelief to the effect of Sandalphon only chuckling with amusement. He nimbly avoids her subsequent barrage of further questions by turning to Grimnir.

“You’re done with the soda?”

“Y-yeah. But…”

“We’re starting.”

For the rest of the session, little more on the subject occupies their sparse exchanges. They resort to the use of a metronome after an uncharacteristically agitated Alexiel fails to maintain tempo for the third time. Sandalphon soon regrets his act of kindness as, apparently, keeping her mind from the rose-tinted prospect of a reunion is too grueling an uphill battle.


	3. Chapter 3

_... Alexiel came by again today! To help with the props, of course. I vow to cherish the memory of her single-handedly hawling half the barricade backstage for all eternity. The way her biceps curled really made one’s heart race with fervour! I’m giddy from mere recollection. Scores of male students were present to aid with the prop transportation process, but as one would expect, none came even close to how dashing she was!_

_And yet, there was a lack of proper conversation, again… We waved at each other as we always do. I’ve always tried to wave with utmost enthusiasm, but it never amounts to much. In shameful desperation, I have even gone so far as to strive for her attention by means of selecting the more ostentatious arias to practice during breaks. Owing to my cowardice, I dared not venture a single gaze to check the deed’s effectiveness. Still no fruitful conversation so far! So perhaps it isn’t very effective after all…_

_It has been well over a week. I wonder if she ever picked up Kodilla… Against my delusions, she could very well not have. Our rendez-vous at the recital hall could have been mere coincidence, and the same goes for our conveniently similar schedules. With my eyes closed, sometimes I can still see her gallant visage as she saved ~~me~~ my audition when we first met... _

_I do wish a moment of spurred passion would allow me the courage to just fly to her side. But it’s never a lady’s business to pursue ~~her knight~~ sporadic impulses. Ladies must remain poised at all times, only hinting at their affection by means of physical tokens, usually dropped at the scenes of meeting. Is that not how the story goes? It was quite unfortunate that I had neither handkerchiefs nor hairpins on hand at the time. Perhaps Kodilla made for a poor replacement… _

_If only aunt Gabriel were not on tour, I would be able to seek advice from her then. She always knows exactly what to do. With luck, I also hope to see Kodilla again… I do miss him._

Europa closes her girthy journal with a frustrated thud. She has no more classes for the day, but it is but a mere two hours past noon and she is still on campus - moping away by herself in a private practice room. Not the best time of day to already be writing an entry, but Europa was in dire need of venting her frustrations and in no mood to face her personal body guards at the gate.

Her mood has indeed improved after some writing, but there is still a quarter of an hour to her room-borrowing period. With the remaining time, she might as well put the room to its intended use, Europa thinks. She begins with some standard breathing exercises, then moves on to lip and tongue trills.

That they are not the most pleasant noises one could produce, she is well aware. At best trills sound ridiculous, at worst even disturbing. Unfortunate, they are the most effective at warming the vocal cords sounding their worst. Europa has always found comfort in numbers and the general chaotic atmosphere of group practice. These are not sounds she ever wish for Alexiel to hear from her, their being both well-accustomed to the routines of vocalists notwithstanding. 

But as fate would indulge its sadistic whims, Europa’s worst fear materialises. She nearly chokes when firm knocks resound from the door, Alexiel’s face suddenly in full view through its glass pane and somehow, perfectly unperturbed. 

Europa mobilises every ounce of willpower and dignity in her body to not scramble to the door, all the while silently praying that the room has _some_ soundproofing capacity. The paddingless walls denote otherwise. She wants to dig herself feet-first into the ground. 

“Good afternoon.” 

“Ah… Hi. Sorry for interrupting your practice session. I heard from your classmates that they saw you heading for the private practice rooms so…” - Alexiel timely stops a facepalm from ensuing because of course, that detail wasn’t at all creepy. - “...I just never found the right time to return you this keychain.”

Alexiel’s fingers only lightly brush hers upon Kodilla’s return. And here she is, fighting for life to stop a glowing brush from creeping up past her neck. 

“...So you sought me out?”

“Well! I… got to the building then followed the sound of your voice to this specific room.” 

One of Alexiel’s hands squeezes the other to stop it from colliding with her forehead. Right, _that_ wasn’t creepy either. Not that Europa cares, rose-tinted fantasies of fated romance is pouring into her head like water from a broken faucet at the parallel of their current circumstances with their second encounter. Her bashfulness from earlier has all but evaporated.

“I see. Thank you very much for saving me, once again!”

Alexiel chuckles.

“I wouldn’t call basic decency an act of salvation. If anything, I have to apologise for returning it so late.”

As expected, her knight really behaves with exemplary decorum. Europa could swoon.

“They are beautiful acts of kindness, still.”

“If you insist.” 

Silence stretches thin. Both wish to prolong being in the other’s presence but curse themselves for lack of a follow up conversational topic. The pause finally ends with Alexiel’s surrender.

“Uhm… I should stop wasting your room usage time. Have a nice day and I’ll see you aro-”

“W-wait! Please let me repay you!!”

She has finally done it. Europa has shattered any remaining facade of grace and formality. The echoes of her own outburst resound through the empty hall, bouncing back to her ears sounding like disjointed mockery. Taking advantage of an unguarded moment, the blush rises to Europa’s face and ears in eruptive reaction.

“...By repaying you mean…” - A stunned Alexiel mumbles.

“Do… Do you happen to be partial to moviegoing?” - Europa clears her throat, trying perhaps a little too hard to salvage whatever is left of customary formality. 

“Y-yeah. I do enjoy movies. Are you suggesting that we go on a d… I mean, an outing with the goal of watching movies?”

“Yes! That would be lovely. I shall pay for both of our tickets and any refreshment of your choice.”

“Please! You don’t have t… I mean… I’d love to! But there’s no need to cover the costs…”

“I insist! I’d be honoured if you would allow me the opportunity to express my gratitude.”

Alexiel is on the verge of further protests, but their exchange is abruptly cut off by the building’s security reminding them to leave soon. After some hasty apologies, she returns to face a still very obstinate Europa, the fight to confront whom has all but drained out of her in a few seconds of interruption. Alexiel sighs in resignation.

“Alright, I’ll take you up on the offer.” - And before Europa could propose more extreme acts of recourse (which the instant flare of enthusiasm on her face very much denotes), Alexiel continues. - “But before that. It seems I really wasted your room usage time… May I redeem this inconvenience by helping you with your belongings to the gate, perhaps?”

Europa brings both hands to her mouth to conceal a small gasp. 

“Oh my… I can’t possibly burden you with such trivial…”

Their interaction thus far has taught Alexiel considerably about the young woman before her. Formality is a staple to Europa’s conduct, and given her background, it would be perfectly understandable if she has been through lifelong coaching to carry herself as such. But Europa’s eyes could never betray how she truly feels, being large and expressive enough to contain and unleash oceans worth of fervent passion. Right now, they seem to sparkle with a silent but resounding “yes” to her proposal, betraying Europa’s verbal modesty.

It’s incredibly endearing, Alexiel can’t help but think. The poorly masked sincerity of Europa seems to halve the distance between them that she has felt so acutely up till now. Secretly, she hopes that these walls of formality - already so inadequate at containing the entirety of Europa’s emotional capacity - would finally crumble.

“Please. It would be my pleasure to assist.”

\---

Alexiel has left the choice of film and location to Europa after much back-and-forth pushing between them. It is rightful compromise in her eyes, given Europa’s unyielding insistence on paying for most things.

Perhaps she should have been more perceptive to the early (and frankly, quite obvious) indication of Europa’s interests, but the Kodilla keychain really bore a multitude of other implications. It could be a loved one’s keepsake, for example, or imbued with cherished memories. In any case, owing to her own lack of foresight, Alexiel now finds herself quite befuddled walking into an obscure, suburban theatre in the most romantic, smart-casual bordering on semi-formal set of clothes thrown together by the collective efforts of Medusa and herself.

Europa has chosen to see a some decades-old special effect monster film, the rescreening of which only takes place at the one theatre. The film’s age and the small scale of the theatre amount to disgustingly low ticket prices. Money is certainly not an issue to Europa, so her film choice could only have been motivated by genuine interest.

And as if the experience could not be more surreal, Europa is indeed, making discreet little noises of awe throughout the film (particularly each time any practical effect explosives were triggered), hands instinctively clasped over half her face in that same manner she would to conceal any display of emotions her subconscious deems excessive. 

Alexiel’s momentary bewilderment soon morphs into appreciativeness. She expected a predictable romance film or - if Europa still wanted to see older films - a classy, timeless period drama more befitting of her image, perhaps. Not only is this experience beyond all of her wildest expectations, it is definitely something she can live with. She has never been more invested in a date night film throughout her courtship history.

The entirety of fifteen minutes spent in Europa’s car as they are driven back city center is spent with animated conversation, which persists even after they have settled down in a street corner cafe. Alexiel enjoys herself so much the constant presence of Europa’s one personal bodyguard and chauffeur is all but forgotten. 

“...The explosions were exquisite, don’t you think? It’s hard to find collateral damage that mesmerising in the more current disaster films. Such is the magic of practical effects!” - Europa exclaims, following up with a much needed sip of sparkling grapefruit juice to dampen some of the zeal in her voice.

The gesture pulls a small chortle from Alexiel’s lips.

“I see. No wonder that the sparks and debris seemed exceptionally realistic. Same goes for the rest of the sets, actually.”

“Indeed! All of what you see were truly present - painstakingly constructed to the highest standard of realism. The melting concrete buildings was therefore a magnificent feat of craftsmanship, achieved by means of-”

“Wax? Melted wax and some other viscous mixture contained within the hollow miniature building, placed under expert lighting to create the illusion of high temperature…”

Alexiel is late to notice her breach of etiquette. Europa’s lower lip uncharacteristically hangs open, eyes wide with what her panicked mind can only perceive as scandal. 

“Oops… Sorry for interrupting, I really didn’t mean to...”

“N-not at all! You were precisely correct!” - Contrary to her belief, Europa’s astonishment is all awe and fascination. - “How did you… I mean… I should have known you would be knowledgeable about such things, given your work with stage sets. I apologise for the display of verbosity before one of actual expertise as yourself…”

 

“That’s not something worthy of apology! Then I must also apologise for erroneous assumptions about you and your interests.”

Europa’s head tilts to the side, quizzical. Then realisation blooms across her features in a smile gilded with amusement.

“Ah… Did you expect a more… ‘feminine’ choice of film?”

The sudden teasing fringe in Europa’s tone makes Alexiel squirm slightly, fingers nervously coil long red hair into ringlets beneath the tabletop. 

“I… guess.”

“Heheh. I get similar comments often from my family, too.” 

Embarrassment over her false expectations notwithstanding, the sight of Europa’s once rigid frame softening with familiarity as it trembles in giggles sends comfort washing over Alexiel herself. 

“My greed has made me hungry for all things beautiful, not just beauty in the sense popularly dictated as ‘feminine’. And I simply find exceptional beauty in a film genre which combines the visceral, the ephemeral and dauntless craftsmanship.”

It makes perfect sense. From what she has learned from Europa, what seems like superficial and mindless destruction onscreen belies meticulous construction and a fortitude which with to see one’s work destroyed. The hyper-realistic miniature sets are rebuilt by hand, over and over again, until the desired scene is shot to standard. Such dedication and craftsmanship are deserving of her highest admiration.

Alexiel laughs quietly to herself, but the deed does not escape Europa’s watchful gaze. 

“Was something I said odd?”

“Not at all. I just find it somewhat ironic that a long-time friend of mine has spent years trying to convert me into a fellow enthusiast of these films, and yet you accomplished it in half a day. You’re pretty amazing.”

‘Pretty amazing’ is a grave understatement of how Alexiel truly thinks about Europa, but even so, the words succeed in making their recipient blush.

“You flatter me…” - Europa’s response is laced with wry laughter. - “...But you say a fellow enthusiast? I would love to meet them!”

Alexiel nearly chokes on the gulp of cocoa sliding halfway down her throat, the image of Grimnir and Europa occupying one space apparently too difficult to fathom.

“You’re serious? He is quite the boisterous character, though. I’m not sure you will enjoy such company…”

“Yes! There are not many fellow enthusiasts with whom I am acquainted.” - Europa’s eyes gleam with enthusiasm. - “And any opportunity to learn more about you is welcome, honestly - meeting with your friends, going to your favourite places, listening to the music you make…”

Europa seems to trail off into some dreamscape visible only to herself. Meanwhile, Alexiel shuffles uncomfortably in her seat. Medusa or Yggdrasil are alright, but she arguably spends more time with her bandmates: one of whom has a personality most would find abrasive and the other… simply loud beyond people’s typical tolerance capacity. Her favourite places - Sandalphon’s garage where they practice, the reed-infested foot of a particular old bridge in the suburbs where water gushes louder than traffic, the bizarre ‘classical room’ of the local guitar factory - are not locations she can imagine Europa would enjoy. And the music that she plays… Alexiel is more partial to percussion instruments of the non-melodic kind, meaning outside of her band’s rock sessions, her favourite pieces to play with the orchestra are mostly military marches.

“... I’m not sure you would find much enjoyment out of such activities either…”

“You’re assuming my interests again.” - Europa’s lip curl in a pout.

“Right, I’m sorry.”

“Pardoned.”

Their glasses have long emptied, but they remain long after sun down. The last slivers of natural light pools out of the windows along with the cafe’s last patrons. Alexiel has Europa’s undivided attention, until the familiar pattern of a vehicle’s flickering headlights commands it. Immediately, her eyes droop with regret.

“Ah… I’m afraid I must leave. Would you like a ride back to your place first?”

Accepting a ride back would be good excuse to prolong their time together, if only for a little, but Alexiel feels an entire day’s worth of recreation at Europa’s expense is already enough intrusion on her kindness.

“That’s alright. My place is near and can be quickly reached via public transportation.”

“I see… Well, I wish you an enjoyable evening!” 

Alexiel silently curses her own insensitivity upon seeing Europa’s shoulder slump even further. But reason maintains that this is the more sensible choice, as outstaying her welcome would only invoke even deeper guilt.

“Same to you.” - She does her best to respond with a smile.

They linger at the cafe’s entrance, both ignoring the vehicle’s impatient headlight flashing. Europa doesn’t feel at all ready to part ways. Something is amiss, her gut feeling informed by years of chewing through archives of romance novels is adamant that this ritual of theirs has one final step. But stubborn as she has always been in getting her way, Europa is not free from shame. Her feet shuffle in anxiety, eventually drawing Alexiel’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” - The other girl asks.

“...Is it…” 

It’s not good to pester others for what she wants, Europa was taught from a young age. But sometimes a courage is needed to ask for things rightfully deserved, she needs only try - is what she learned much later in life. When in doubt, Europa would subscribe to the latter route of action. 

“Is it too early for a kiss, you know, for this kind of thing? I’m sorry… I don’t know-”

The response is unexpectedly swift, enacted even before its request has fully been vocalised. Slivers of tender warmth sandwich her lower lip, coaxing her own to relax and allow their fitting together. Europa more than happily complies as she fights the explosive surge of heat bubbling up from her chest. 

Any sense of time is warped for the both of them for as long as they stay locked in place. Neither knows exactly how many seconds or even minutes have passed, the only telling indication is their equal breathlessness upon parting. Betraying the confidence with which Alexiel forces herself to utter the following words, Europa wonders if the other girl’s blush rivals or surpasses her own.

“I do hope that it’s not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Europa as a sheltered rich girl with no actual experience in dating but a lot of romantic fantasies because I don't make the rules o/


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m not against the idea at all, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that… Isn’t Olympia’s creator a ma? So the audience might have a problem with me bringing you out- Hold still.”

Europa obediently holds her arm up as guided, her breathing stills in anticipation of another safety pin entering the fabric of her clothing. Alexiel laughs and reminds her, for the third time within the hour, that it’s okay to breathe normally. She will be singing in these clothes, after all.

“Oh, excuse me.” - Europa blushes, a little too eager to redirect their attention back to the matter at hand. - “And that won’t be a problem. We’re not doing the whole play, just the one aria from Les contes d'Hoffmann as part of the recital! The entire program is sort of like… uh… apple shuffle?”

“iPod shuffle playlist?”

“Yeah! It’s a mix of various pieces from different plays. So the role of Olympia’s inventor is but a necessary placeholder. We just need someone to carry me onstage.”

“I see.” - Alexiel replies, lips thinning in concentration as she sews on one last strand of silk ribbon to the shoulder of Europa’s dress. 

The fabric still needs bunching up at places secured by safety pins; Alexiel still has not completed the final details on hair ornaments and neither does Europa have the proper makeup on yet. The whole look barely approaches completion, but already, Europa strikingly resembles a life-sized living doll. 

Alexiel hardly ever admires her own work, nor does she possess the ego to allow herself such vanity. But the sight of Europa in any manner of dress, let alone something made by her own hands, is too often in the habit of leaving Alexiel hopelessly bewitched. 

“It’s okay to breathe, dear.” - Europa giggles, pulling her partner out of her trance.

“Guh… Not like I can help it, with such a breathtaking beauty before me.” - Alexiel huffs. - “What was _your_ excuse?”

“I simply wanted to be helpful! In addition to the same reason as yours, of course.”

“Hey, you don’t gain the upperhand like that. That’s cheating.”

“Says which authority?” - Europa pouts, then quick as a snake, her hand darts towards Alexiel to smear a streak of acrylic paint across her cheek in retaliation. 

The backstage storage room - their on-campus retreat - reverberates with their combined laughter. Wrestling through the clutter of props and crafts material, Europa and Alexiel’s tickling match knows no restraint, not even the danger of empty but unscrewed paint tubes lying scattered within their vicinity. Despite her more physical built, Alexiel ends up on her back with an extremely giddy Europa straddling her waist. Breathless but triumphant, Europa slumps on top of her girlfriend, her last giggles tickling the crook of Alexiel’s neck.

“Heheh… It seems my indomitable knight has been bested.”

“Yep, you got me.” - Alexiel exhales in mock defeat - “But no worries. I will get you back for staining the dress later.”

“Oh no! I’m so sorry… I can’t believe I was so thoughtless as to-”

“No, no, I’m kidding.” - Alexiel’s hand playing with Europa’s hair now serves to hold her down. - “It’s alright, the paint is washable. Can we just… stay like this for a while…”

Europa is thankful that her face hidden from Alexiel’s view in their current positions. Little does she know, her blush is still partly visible to the other girl on account of her reddening eartips. 

“Alright…”

And so they do, Europa letting herself be lulled by Alexiel’s heartbeat into a sleepy trance, Alexiel curling Europa’s golden locks into silken ringlets as she steeps in rumination. 

“What’s on your mind?” - Europa finally breaks the silence, mumbling into her girlfriend’s neck with eyes closed. The somewhat bitter smell of wood and paint on Alexiel is overpowering her natural earthy, slightly flowery scent. She ought to help her fix that, Europa thinks.

“Hmm, how light you are.”

“Stop teasing, you weigh more than me by but a margin.”

“I’m serious, though.”

Alexiel really is visualising carrying Europa as she brings her up to that stage: how slender legs will bend over one of her forearms, her small back cradled in the other. Europa’s head will rest under her chin just like this, her hair - adorned in ribbons - releasing its fragrance directly into her nose… 

Now that Alexiel has given the scenario ample thought, she really is not comfortable having the task of carrying Europa-

“I really am not comfortable leaving such an intimate task to anyone other than you, I must be honest.”

Europa’s suddenly voicing her thoughts catches Alexiel off-guard. Her astonishment almost immediately softens into joy, and she finds herself in another small laughing fit.

“Did I say something strange?” - Europa raises her head from Alexiel’s chest, sounding more surprised than offended.

“Not at all! I’m just a little scared of how you keep amazing me.”

“Why would you laugh in fear? I don’t understand.”

Alexiel pulls herself upright so their eyes properly meet, struggling a little as her body still trembles from the grips of laughter.

“It’s a coping mechanism for lots of people, me included.”

“Huh, alright, then.” - She’s still not quite satisfied with the answer, but Europa feels she would not gain any further understanding by pushing on with inquiries. - “I’d love to be amazed, or frightened, to the point of such glee by you, too.”

Europa sounds hopeful, if not a little lonely as she voices her wish. While Alexiel finds such heartfelt desire to empathise from her partner devastatingly endearing, something else about it sets off alarms at the back of her head.

“By that, you mean…”

“I really look forward to attending your performances.”

Of course. Alexiel’s breath is caught in her throat for a split second. She gathers Europa back into her arms to hopefully distract her from just how anxious she can feel herself growing. 

“Maybe someday, when you’re less busy with foundational courses and I get to play more than crashing cymbals at the last bar of Bruckner.”

Europa giggles, contented with snuggling into Alexiel’s warmth and the promise of her long-awaited experience.

“I know you play more than that.”

“Oh do you?” - Alexiel asks, betraying her own hesitance to hear a serious answer.

“Do I?” - Europa manages to sound as teasing as she is sincere.

\---

Europa does know, and decides to let Alexiel in on her knowing by the most exorbitant means possible.

Alexiel should have noticed something was off when Grimnir began skipping their practices. No, Grimnir skipping practice is not actually that out of the ordinary. But Sandalphon was also missing out on practice, albeit on perfectly reasonable excuses like filling in last-minute empty shifts for the cafe where he part-times, or babysitting his little cousin Sariel. And then Europa was shifting their times of meeting around sporadically for a good period of a month. Alexiel was effectively surrounded by a world of irregularities in which she found no purchase for normalcy.

Perhaps that is why she has failed to connect the dots. It never once crossed her mind that her bandmates and girlfriend may be acquainted with any degree of intimacy. That’s not right either… Sandalphon, through inexplicable means, obviously knows of Europa as he does most occurrences at their school. Grimnir and Europa, on the other hand, both have history of expressing their enthusiasm for a potential friendship between them. All the signs were present, Alexiel just never thought about it hard enough. At the end of the day, she really has no one but herself to blame.

“Go Alexiel! I believe in you!” - Europa cries cheerfully from the audience seats set up in front of the department store where their performance has been scheduled, waving her giant finger of foam and glow sticks.

She draws the attention of more than a few passers-by, being so early and thus the only person in the audience. 

“Lady, they ain’t starting in another half an hour.” - The sound technician tells Europa, barely looking at her as he busies himself helping Alexiel with setting up the stand microphones.

“Oh, I see. Thanks for letting me know, sir!” - Europa replies with genuine gratitude.

Still stupefied by disbelief, Alexiel’s interjection comes too late. Grimnir is uncharacteristically early and overzealously eager to greet their first audience member.

“Europa you made it!! I mean… Ahem! Welcome, illustrious songstress! It is great honour to be your host and blessed with your hallowed presence!! Are you prepared to find yourself bewildered by our divine music which rivals the seraphic trumpets of Heaven… Ooooh the shirt looks great on you!”

Only now does Alexiel notice what Europa is wearing and her jaw drops upon the realisation: a black t-shirt - uncharacteristically simple compared to Europa’s usual, more feminine attires - on which their band’s name is emblazoned. Paradise Regained - it says in large, golden letters in a bold and imposing cursive font adorned with stylistically drawn wings. The thing is undoubtedly custom-made.

“Thank you, Grimnir! It looks good largely thanks to your excellent design.”

“Grimnir’s design…? It’s not _our_ logo if you made it without others’ knowledge, Grimnir!” - Alexiel scolds.

“I did not! Sandalphon approved of it!”

“I sure did.”

Sandalphon arrives with guitar strapped to his back, drinks in hand and possibly the most obscenely smug grin Alexiel has ever seen him sport. Were her hands not occupied and Europa absent, the crushing sense of betrayal would have her going at his throat. 

“Grimnir did a good job, I’m sure Miss Viscontie agrees.” 

Alexiel realises the guitarist has not three, but four cups in hand as he comes to join them. Sandalphon never buys anyone’s drinks unless he is absolutely familiar with their preferences. In horror, she watches him hand over Europa’s pomegranate rose latte - what she has bought for Europa so many times herself.

“Oh I certainly do. And thank you for the drink, Sandalphon.” - Europa nods with enthusiasm, bringing the straw to her lips.

“Heheh, of course! Can you expect anything less from I, the mad cyclone!” 

Alexiel makes use of the distraction of Grimnir flying into his usual tangent to grab Sandalphon by the collar, drag him behind one of the large amplifiers and hiss through her teeth.

“What happened to minding one’s own business??” - She reprimands. 

Sandalphon shrugs with mirth.

“Grimnir ran into her in mecha and tokusatsu society, then begged to be coached so he could be a vocal department’s accompanist. He is one now, kind of, so they see each other often.”

“What does that have to do with her being here!?”

“Well, they’re friends. Grimnir would like to be supported by one of his friends. Do you disapprove of that?”

Alexiel clenched her teeth with frustration. She knows Sandalphon’s motives run deeper than simply helping Grimnir, that he is especially abrasive and unpleasant when his assistance is least wanted but perhaps most needed. The bastard’s brand of caring just has to be a nightmare to swallow. She would gladly put him out with a punch did circumstances allow, but just a drummer and a keyboardist does not a concert make.

“This doesn’t have to big that big of a deal, Alexiel. You’re good and you know it.” - Prying her fingers off the front of his shirt, Sandalphon gives Alexiel another half-shrug.

“The heck is that supposed to mean?” - She retaliates while already somewhat aware of the answer.

“Still refusing to acknowledge how unfair it is that you get to admire her at her best _and_ worst every single week, while she barely gets her turn to do the same for you?”

“...I…” 

“You’re up in fifteen minutes. Go check the sounds.” - The sound technician timely interrupts, sparing Alexiel the burden of explaining herself under the scrutiny of Sandalphon’s sharp, ruby-red gaze.

“Yessir!” - She rushes back out to the man’s side; doubt, realisation and anxiety froth and swirl in her stomach as she sees the audience seat fill up with people, Europa almost entirely obscured from sight if not for the foam finger sticking out of the crowd. 

Alexiel dreads the mere thought of her girlfriend’s conversing with Sandalphon, how Europa would be so willing to lay bare any insecurities, any concerns, _complaints_ about her relationship with Alexiel, sincere to a fault as she is. But some part of her knows: such openness not only stems from sincerity but also strength. 

One must be courageous to reveal their own vulnerabilities, to share their passions with someone else, to _love_. Europa has given her share of effort, now it is her turn to gather her own courage and reciprocate. 

“You forgot this.”

The chill from her forgotten drink suddenly pressed to her cheek startles Alexiel, but it also brings the welcomed effect of draining away some of her building anxiety. 

“Thank you, Sandalphon.”

She snorts at his dismissive tongue-clicking. One of these days, Alexiel swears to get back at Sandalphon and his grating, caustic attitude and the plan will definitely involve him subjected to unprompted displays of appreciation. With the help of tea, newfound resolve and the promise of vengeance, Alexiel’s fingers tighten around her drumsticks.

\---

“You really didn’t have to get us flowers.”

Or offer Alexiel a ride home, really. She feels a little guilty not accompanying her bandmates on the truck carrying their bulkier equipment back to Sandalphon’s place.

“But I wanted to!” - Europa yawns, her voice hoarse from cheering almost nonstop for well over an hour. Her head shuffles a little on Alexiel’s shoulder to find better purchase. - “And you guys were phenomenal, deserving of much more than some flowers. But… ”

“Yes?”

Alexiel can practically feel the pout against her collarbone.

“I’m definitely doing your hair for next time.”

Europa’s head bounces on her girlfriend’s shoulder, absorbing the reverberation of Alexiel’s chuckles which prompt her to laugh as well. A square-cut slice of moonlight from the car’s window draped over their laps, and Alexiel’s warmth leaching into her own skin, she feels about ready to fall asleep any moment.

“Thanks, I really mean it…” - Alexiel steadies the drowsy Europa with one arm around her shoulder. - “And sorry for not inviting you myself.”

“Heheh… It’s alright. You’re really cool most of the time, but I know you’re bashful about a lot of things and that’s adorable.”

“Ugh… Alright, you win… You think we’re good enough for a next time, though?”

“Of course! I’ll be there to cheer you on next time, and the next, and the next… For as long and as often as I can help it, so… Forever! Just as you’ve done for me…”

Europa’s breathing becomes shallow and her heartbeat slows as her consciousness drifts. Recognising the signs, Alexiel lowers her partner’s head onto her lap. 

Another three intersections, then a turn at the street corner partly obscured by drooping canopy before this moment of solace ends. They have been driven through these areas of town countless times, said the same goodbyes, parted as the moon hangs at about the same height and angle overhead. Alexiel has been visited by the same regret every time as well, except this time there is the bitter tint of knowing Europa will inevitably wake up in her absence. But they will repeat this many times more. She has ample time to make up for any they don’t spend in each other’s wakefulness. 

The car’s tires grind to a halt before her house. With a smile pressed into Europa’s hair and the weight of her own lingering gaze breeding momentary hesitance, Alexiel finally gets off.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t watch that much opera (nor do I speak any Italian) ._.
> 
> The aria sung by Europa in chapter 1 along with its translation can be found here for those interested https://goo.gl/P4VKfG


End file.
